Mayurisama, Let me fight
by YoshiFurbyPhoenixGirl257
Summary: Nemu practices with her zanpakuto and reflects in her room. Oneshot.


The room was dark, and all but empty. Her master didn't see the need in pointless junk hanging around or decorations, but that was perfectly alright; neither did she.

Sighing, Nemu Kurotsuchi's bored fingers ceased their twining in her inky black braid, and moved to the katana on her lap, its crimson sheath beside her.

The girl held her weapon in front of her, eying its glassy surface, running her fingers along the length of the blade.

_I know your name_.

It was true, of course, that the lieutenant had and knew her zanpakuto. But her master was very strict about allowing her to use it, wary allowing others to see the full extent of power he had bestowed on a mere lieutenant.

Many believed she didn't even have a zanpakuto. Such fools. A lieutenant of the twelfth squad, of course she had a zanpakuto. And she was quite good with it.

Especially considering she had never once used except in practice.

If she could use it, then perhaps people would stop laughing at her master. If she could use it, then perhaps people would stop pitying her. If she could use it, then perhaps she herself would know that she was special.

A zanpakuto. By its power, she was a shinigami, and a shinigami is _someone_. A shinigami is not a _thing_, a mere product of science, but rather an actual person.

In the dark room, she clutched her katana closer to her body, her zanpakuto, the lieutenant's only companion, the only one in all creation that knew the soul of the Kurotsuchi girl.

Her zanpakuto, her only friend.

To Nemu, the zanpakuto defined her, a lifeline to reality, a guarantee that she was special. But it was incomplete, no more substantial than an illusion of Kyoka Suigetsu.

It was incomplete because she had never truly used it.

The girl rose from her bed, and took her stance.

The katana rose and fell, gleaming in the dark, arcing through the broad cuts of air, hissing along. The emptiness of Nemu's room all worked in her favor as it transformed into a training ward, and hardly a speck of space in the room was not disturbed by the practicing girl.

_Let me fight_

She wanted it so deeply, she needed it so desperately.

_Let me show them._

Show them her prowess, and the prowess of her creator.

_Let me show myself_.

And prove she actually existed.

Sighing, the girl finished her imaginary bout, and sat back down, sliding the blade into the sheath, fingers lingering on the hilt.

She was forbidden to show anyone her zanpakuto, to tell another soul about her power, but she was itching too, she wanted it so badly.

But Mayuri was worried, that it would be a failure, that it would be deemed to destructive to be allowed to exist, and of course he was waiting, always waiting for the most opportunistic, surprising, least expected, moment to unveil this glorious ability.

And yet, wasn't it her zanpakuto to use as she wished?

Picking up the sheathed zanpakuto, she sighed. Mayuri'd never forgive her. And that would be a life not worth living.

But it was a feral, instinctive desire coursing through her. She didn't know how much longer she could contain it.

She needed it, to unleash her full capabilities upon something, to experience what those of the eleventh squad called living.

The sheath touched the girl's neck, and she raised her right forefinger to the end of it, a spherical light hovering.

The sheath suddenly melted, the whole zanpakuto suddenly warped into a choker, and it settled upon a runed and artificial neck.

Nemu rose, and walked towards the door.

_I am ready_

_Master Mayuri_

_Let me fight_

**Just a little scribble of creativity. And dying of curiosity about Nemu's zanpakuto, and fear they will never show it :( And yes, she DOES have one, "All the Colors But Black" shows her with a zanpakuto. Sorry if this isn't one of my better pieces, maybe sometime I'll come back and try to eloquate (a word in my dictionary only, means to make eloquent and more comprehensible) it. Please review**


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